Sight
by Hufflepuffian
Summary: [redone] The only thing worse than being stuck on Craphole Island, is being stuck on Craphole Island... and not being able to see it. [oc][a few canon]
1. Tightly Wound

**Author's Note: **I was very, very happy to write this. Sight was a story I had written ages ago, and I like to think it was a rather good, relatively liked story. However, I abruptly ended it, just as my plot began to get good. Recently, I've been refining my writing skills, and just decided to try my hand a writing another chapter. That didn't turn out so well. So, instead, I decided to rewrite it. I had fallen completely in love with my two main characters – Chris and Mandy – and didn't want to let them go. I have changed their plots around, added and changed a few things, and made a few key decisions. Hopefully, you all enjoy it, as much as I enjoy writing it. I would love any /constructive/ criticisms you have concerning the story. This chapter isn't as long as I'd like, but they should get longer. ) 

**Disclaimer:** At this point in time, in the story, the only character I own is Chris. However, I whole bunch of new original characters will appear throughout the story. The characters I do not own, in this chapter, I will not spoil, because it involves one of his connections, and I'd prefer you read about them, rather than me telling you. But I don't. LOST is owned by Touchstone/ABC.

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One of the main reasons Chris hated the island – absolutely _hated_ it – was because he couldn't see it. Of course, he didn't let anybody else know that, but he couldn't.

He was blind. And he had been for a number of years.

One of the fortunate coincidences about the plane crash was that the person scheduled to fly to Los Angeles with him had to cancel at the last minute, causing him to go alone. If the man had accompanied Chris, his secret would have been revealed, and peoplewould have to shelter him.

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"_I'm not a baby!" Chris fumed, and took a hard thrust away from his mother who had placed her hand on his in an attempt to guide him across the street. He was unwary and relatively uncaring of anybody who had noticed his outburst, and probably would have a good laugh about it. 'Oh, did you hear the one about the 27-year old blind guy and his mom…?'_

_Yeah, just what he needed. A joke about him._

"_Chris, honey-" rang his mother, clearly sounding hurt at her son's outburst. She took back the extended hand, and held it close to her chest. She looked absolutely crestfallen. "-I just wanted to…"_

"_I know you did," Chris replied, almost instantly. He sounded bitter. His mother's intentions were good, all she wanted to do was look out for her son, who had only become blind a few days before, and hadn't stepped out into public since the ill-fated optometrist encounter. His first visit downtown just had to be with the only person who would try to hold his hand in the middle of the road. "I just want you to know… that I can do it myself." Chris lowered the pair of sunglasses he was wearing, and smiled. He tried to sound sincere, since it was true, but he felt a certain vulnerability out here. The big city, the big world… _

_His mom smiled slightly. Her little boy had grown up. Of course, there was absolutely no way he would be crossing the street without his 'sensing stick', which Chris boldly gave the name his 'dick stick', because of how he looked with it. He may have grown up, but he still had the maturity of an eight grader. _

_She always knew her song was different, growing up. From an early age, he expressed a great love for the sciences, which was apt, considering she was a biologist. As soon as he left high school, he applied for a job at some big-wig science company… Hanson, or something. She would have preferred him take a nice, solid job at a High School, or even just a chemist in his basement. But when he got the job, he went into some sort of solitary._

"_Okay, Chris," she said, politely, "I just don't want you getting hurt."_

_Chris stifled slightly, as his mother pulled him forward gently on the street, "I'm fine, mom, really." It wasn't very convincing. "I'll take my dick stick wherever I can."_

_That made her smile. Despite his vocabulary, he was a good boy._

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Of course, eleven years later, and he still called it the dick stick, but less frequently, now. He had grown accustomed to having friends dragging him along, despite his protests. It was just something he lived with.

However, it had nearly been a week on the island, and people spoke to him like a normal person. He knew he was a normal person, but nobody back home treated him like one. This island, albeit a blessing, was also a curse. Just that morning, he had nearly stepped into the ocean, thinking it was still part of the sand, until somebody stopped him, and jokingly asked if 'he was blind, or something.'

He had an urge to say, 'Yeah, I am!' but he knew he couldn't. It had only been a week. A week, and they had already discovered a potential leader – some doctor, named Jack – Chris hated him. He hated his voice, he hated the way he bossed people around, and he just hated Jack's attitude in general.

Sitting down on a mossy rock, Chris was solemnly drawing in the sand, with a stick. Nothing artsy, just a few element atomic notations, to take his mind off of everything – thinking about how hard it was to have a secret like that. He made an assumption that everybody on the island had secrets, but nothing as big as his. He had lots.

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"_Darwin!" roared the voice of one of the head 'honchos' of the Dharma Initiative. She was possibly one of the most annoying things to grace this planet. The Initiative began years back, by two college grads, only a bit older than himself at the moment (23), and was now one of the chief branches of Hanso – although, top secret. Chris – Christopher Darwin, as he was called by his associates, instead of his preferred nickname of Chris – was decked out it a pale white lab coat, and turned around the speaker, holding two beakers in his hand. One of them, filled with a bubbling green substance, the other yellow. _

"_Yes?" he asked, with a groan, and set down the two beakers of his lab bench, one of them nearly missing the edge. Sweat was lightly rolling down his forehead, as the lab was usual hot – a whole bunch of busy, stinky men and women, Bunsen Burners going off in every corner, and the ever-popular explosion caused by a freak accidental Chemical Change. _

_The woman – a blonde – was the niece of one of the head operatives at the Initiative, so she just happened to be ranked higher than him by association. It was only his first year worker there (edging on to his second), but he had already outwitted her completely, and she was half the chemist he was. She even managed to cause a fire just by mixing two basic chemicals, and forgetting the outcome, and it burst out. Fortunately, people were there to assist almost instantly._

"_Come help me with this," she demanded, cattily. It was one of her pastimes, acting like this towards him. The company knew all the promise he had to be successful in the company, but she hogged all of his work, and took the credit. He tried to not let it faze him, too much, but sometimes her antics really got to him. She had a compulsive lying problem, or so it seemed, and she would lie if it helped her get ahead. Once, she even lied about a family member to secure a job for her._

_Maybe that's why they called her 'the lying Libby Widmore.'_

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Chris heard a laugh, and footsteps streaking through the warm sand, towards him in a slightly shady area near the woods. He lifted the stick, and waited for the footsteps to come close enough before reacting. It was hard to know when somebody was near you when they were walking on sand.

"Are you gonna pass me that?" the person asked – it was a girl. Chris hesitated, not sure exactly what to do. He could ignore her and pretend he was deaf; he could reach out and pray he chose the right side, or he could tell the truth. He didn't even know what it was he would be reaching _for_. He just chose to ignore her.

The girl sighed, and he could hear the tapping of flip-flops on the bottom of her feet as she walked toward him. "You could have picked up my Frisbee," she scowled, and it sounded like she walked slightly past her.

Choosing not to respond, Chris gazed off in another direction momentarily, until he heard the whooshing of an object becoming louder and louder, until…

Wham!

Chris let out a groan of pain, as he felt himself fall back, off of the rock, landing on the warm sand beneath him. He grabbed on to the forehead, feeling around with his thumb to see if he was bleeding. His sunglasses had slid off of his head, but he didn't care. His own safety was at risk here. "What did you do that for?" he asked, and hissed a curse.

"Well, when somebody throws a Frisbee at you, the idea is to catch it-" she said a-matter-of-factly, and let out a gasp. "What's wrong with your eyes!"

He let out another groan, and rolled over on to his side, and a sharp pain filled his foot. It felt as if it has been dislocated, and was now facing more than the regular 180 degrees it should have been. Cringing, he pushed it back up, subduing the pain, but it was still noticeable. His face was now buried in his arm, while resting his head on the other; he had an unavoidable surge of anger towards this naïve little girl.

Hearing her ask the unavoidable question, he thought of what to say. He could lie, or tell her, both ideas would hurt him in the long run. Either way, even after seeing his eyes, she probably would go tell hero boy, and he would come to his rescue.

'_Pah. My trouble is past Jack's level of expertise,' _he thought irritably, and rolled back towards the girl, his face now red. "What's your problem!" he asked, deciding it would be best to ignore the girl's impolite question.

"Somebody woke up on the wrong side of the island, this morning," she said cheekily, as if the whole plane crash had been a joke; a complete and utter joke.

Chris frowned, and let out an irritated noise. "Glad to see you're enjoying your vacation. Why don't you do me a favor, and go back to your mommy."

The girl seemed visibly upset by that, even though Chris couldn't see it. It took her a while to think of a response. _'What does he think I am?'_ she wondered, and grabbed her Frisbee from next to the angry man. "You never answered my question," she told him.

Did this girl give up? Why did she think that Chris wanted to talk to her? "Where do you get off, thinking I'm going to tell you personal things?"

It was true, though. All these people – all these survivors, had been lucky. They survived a potentially deadly crash, with very, very few casualties. As soon as they were rescued, all their secrets – every little thing they told to another person – would not be forgotten. The criminals would be told on, the confessions would be told. None of these people were friends with another. They all wanted to get off the island, as soon as they possibly could. And, as soon as that help came, they would forget each other. Just like that.

There was no point in explaining to this girl – who, judging by her attitude was only a teenager – his life, his personal information, anything.

"It's not like I was asking you about how many times you shoplifted from the jewelry store, jeeze. Some people are wound too tight…" she began to trail off, causing Chris to get a little annoyed. What kind of conceited little…

"I'm wound tight because I don't want to tell you about my problems!" he said, raising his voice. His head began to hurt, as a vein pumped through it, trying to regain circulation. "How about I tell you about the time I cheated on my girlfriend with her best friend? Or the time I threatened to kill somebody I worked with? Why not? Because it's none of your fu-"

"Hey, it's not like I told you to tell me any of that crap!" she said, a slightly amused tone to her voice. "All I wanted to know is if you were blind. It's no big deal."

Chris huffed, and managed to sit up. He had a head rush, at the acceleration of his rising, but managed to stand up without falling over. With his head still throbbing, and his drawing stick still in his hand, he began to walk away, holding the stick slightly in front of him, as if guiding a trail. "It is to me…" he whispered angrily, as he shifted the sunglasses on to his eyes, again.

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"_What would you, of all people, Libby, need help with?" he asked her, trying to sound as sincere as possible, but couldn't resist being a little snide about it. He didn't think she caught the sarcasm, anyway._

_Libby laughed cockily, and tossed her head to the side, allowing her blonde hair to fall behind her shoulder. "I need help with a solution," she told him, trying to sound as desperate as possible. She showed him an equation on a clipboard she had written down, and he read it over quickly. _

"_What exactly are you making?" Chris asked, not looking up. It was long and intricate, and he wasn't quite getting it. It didn't resemble chemistry, more like physics – electricity._

"_Well," she said, with a smirk, and began to explain the problem. He had no clue what it was, exactly, that she was planning on doing. She had mentioned something about magnetism… electromagnetism? He wasn't sure._

"_Why don't you go ask somebody else? I'm not exactly… good… with physics," Chris said modestly. He was a modest person, when he could be. Libby didn't even have that word in her vocabulary._

"_He told me to ask you," she said, and Chris knew who she was referring to. "He told me you would know the answer."_

_Chris arched an eyebrow, and looked away from the paper, shaking his head. "I don't know what Candle is talking about," he told her, "I know nothing about electromagnetism." _

"_Don't lie to me, Christopher," she said in a monotone voice. Chris' eyes caught hers, and they seemed rather tense, angry._

"_I'm not lying, Libby," he said quickly, frustrated. "… And it's Chris."_

_She huffed, and pulled the clipboard away from him, shoving past him angrily. There was something seriously wrong with her. She had this… problem… about her, and nobody could figure out what it was. She had this need to be right, but she didn't have the brains for it. Well, from what she demonstrated, she did… but she was much too spoiled, she got everything from her family, everything she wanted. She thought the right answer would just fall into her lap. _

_Then, when she started to not get what she wanted, she began to lie, to always be right. She would make up a ridiculous lie, and make people believe her story, and then she would have the feeling of being right about it. It made her feel better._

_One thing, Chris knew, was that he felt extremely sorry for her._

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That night, back at camp, had been a weary one. Nobody really felt up to doing anything, not like Chris really cared; as soon as night time kicked in, he would just shut up, and listen. He couldn't do anything abnormal. What if he walked into the fire? Not the best idea, to make people think you could see, now was it?

He ran a hand through his hair, and stood up, wobbling to log he was sitting on with two others, a Korean couple, who couldn't speak English. They must have felt worse than he did. People kept talking, and talking about them… how weird they were. It wasn't fair to them. Chris was lucky enough to be able to hide his disability, his hindrance, though it was difficult. Maneuvering his feet over to the other side of the log, he made an attempt to find his way back to his sleeping area.

"-oh, Chris! Wait up," said a voice from the group around the fire. A girl named Janelle, if he remembered correctly. She was nice; she had been in Australia diving, before the crash.

Turning around slowly, careful not to trip over anything, Chris smiled meekly. "Yeah?"

She laughed, quietly. She was only a bit younger than he was, but she was full of youthful energy. Unlike the girl he had run in to earlier, she had some kindness in her. "Tell us about yourself," she said, and there was a murmur of agreement between some of the other people seated around. "It's been, what, a week since the crash, and you haven't told us a thing about yourself?"

Chris twitched slightly, and stepped closer to the log, dragging his feet so not to trip over it. As he worked his way over it, and reclaimed his seat, and sighed quietly before managing a response. "I'm Chris…"

"We know that," a man, he believed his name was Tony, said. There was, once again, a murmur of agreement, and a bit of laughter, mixed in.

"I'm 32-"

"32!" exclaimed Janelle, with a laugh, "you don't look like 32… much too cute," she told him, causing him to blush (luckily, it was too dark to notice).

"… If you keep interrupting me," Chris said, playfully, yet brutally, "I'm not going to tell you anything." That shut them up. "Thank you," he said, now grinning. "I'm from a city in the US, one which doesn't concern any of you. I worked as a scientist before the… crash," he started, but stopped abruptly- nothing else to say.

The conversation seemed to be on hiatus, as he finished, as if he had the whole crowd waiting for him to continue, but he wasn't going to, it's not like he could. Chris yawned, and managed to stand up again, stretching as he did. "If you'll excuse me," he told them, waving. "I'm going to bed." He managed over the log, again, and walked away from the group and the cackling of the fire. Hopefully, he wouldn't trip on his way—

--Thud!

Too late, he fell.


	2. Monster Root

**Author's Note: **This chapter revolves not around Chris, but another one of my mains – Mandy. This chapter is just the tip of the iceberg (for those who didn't know, the part of the iceberg you see above water is only 10 of the actual iceberg, the majority is below water) of her story. It pretty much begins how she got on the plane, and stories revolving around that. She may seem like a nice person, or tries to be, but she has done many reckless actions, in the past, many she'd like to forget. I don't like this as much as the first, as I found it rather difficult to make Mandy's back story seem realistic at this point. 

**Disclaimer:** I only own Chris and Mandy. Lost is owned by ABC/Touchstone Television.

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"That looks like it hurt…" was all Chris heard before attempting to bury himself into the sand. He probably tripped on the most stupid thing possible, and he made a complete fool of himself. And now, on top of that, that girl from earlier was around, she was probably listening from the shadows – or maybe she was even at the fire, and he didn't hear her.

"Not as much of a Frisbee, in the head," he said in a fierce whisper, rolling on to his back, and taking a deep breath. Luckily, he hadn't had the wind knocked out of him - he just inhaled a whole bunch of filthy sand particles.

She laughed, at that, but it was true. "Well," she began, through a chuckle, "I'm very sorry about that. Want some help getting up?"

Reluctantly, Chris stuck his hand up, after adjusting his sunglasses back on to his eyes. He felt a cold, small hand grip on to his, and helped him be hoisted up. As he began to dust the sand and dirt from his clothes, he could hear snickering from the group he was with. Grudgingly, he began to walk in the direction he thought was the way to his sleeping quarters.

After a few steps, he heard the clicking of flip-flops, again, and sighed. '_Leave me alone…' _He stopped walking, however, and waited for the girl to catch up to him. She stopped, breathlessly, and felt her hand land on his shoulder as she tried to regain her breath.

"Don't worry about it," she said, grinning. "Just tell them it was dark, and you didn't notice the root."

Oh, yeah, that would work. The supposed 'root' he tripped on happened to go from the forest, about halfway along the beach, Chris knew that because he had nearly tripped over it on his first day here - monster Root. "I'd rather not," he told her, and he began to walk again, in a strained voice.

"Okay…" she said slyly and began to follow him along the sand, letting it seep under her toes. "Then you can tell them you're blind."

"I'm not-" he began in an angry tone, but the girl cut in.

"Yeah, you are!"

Chris grunted, and turned inwardly to the forest, unknowingly stepping into the path of the nuisance girl, but he didn't care. She scowled as he did, stopping her in his tracks, but he kept pressing forwards.

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_Mandy slumped against a locker, keeping her arms (which enveloped her school books) close to her chest. She just stopped to breath, to look around. She yawned, as she looked along the long, silent, still hallway. She was the only living thing in it – unless you count thrown out cafeteria food 'living'. _

_She stifled a yawn, and banged her head against the metal of the locker door, which wasn't hard at all. The sound echoed along the hallway, which didn't seem to bother her, she was just waiting for the bell to ring. Her classroom was the room across the hall from where she was standing, she had been sent out because she was supposedly a disturbance – a hindrance, to the learning process of the other students. _

_It was her last class of the day, English. Which struck her as odd, because the American girl thought she spoke better English than anybody inside the entire country of Australia; their accents were still weird to her, despite living in the country for most of her life, since the divorce of her parents._

_She was actually happy to be sent out in to the hall, because this happened to be her last day at the school. It hadn't been the best news to her, at the time, but as the days got closer to the day she would be leaving 'the outback', the more excited she got. She was going to live with her father, in Los Angeles, her home town, before the divorce._

_The bell rang, suddenly, slightly startling the teenager, because she happened to be next to the deafening machine. The door to her English class swung open, and she tried to push past the group of students leaving the room, and she tried to get in._

"_Ah," the teacher said, furrowing her eyebrows as the presence of the troublemaker entered her room. "Come to disturb me, as well?"_

_Mandy couldn't help but laugh. "No, I just wanted to tell you, you won't have to put up with me anymore."_

_Though she didn't show it, the teacher was ecstatic about this. She couldn't think of anything to say in response to this, because it was too good for words. It hadn't even been a month or two with the girl in her class, but she had already been sent out so many times, it was frightening. Instead, she grabbed the small pile of papers she had in her hands, and quickly left the room, to the staff room, leaving Mandy alone in the room._

_Checking the clock in the corner of the room, Mandy realized she had enough time to do one more thing 'for' the professor before leaving._

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"Seriously, Chris…" Mandy said in a huff, the name sounded weird to her, when she said it. "It's not a big deal, it's not like I'm going to tell Jack."

Chris stopped, right before he hit the first black of grass, separating the beach from the forest. His ears perked up, at the mention of her not telling Jack. He spun around, still slightly annoyed at the girl, if she didn't like Jack, maybe… "You know what?" he snarled, and walked towards the girl, trying to not walk in to her. "I want to know why you care. Have I shown you anything other than hostility? I've known you for a day!"

She didn't seem to have a response to this, like he anticipated. Maybe _now_ she would leave him alone – maybe.

"I just…" she began slowly. "I need to know. I'm sorry, but it's a big deal around camp. People keep saying how you keep walking in to things, and they want to know if you're okay."

Chris felt a knot tighten in his throat when she had said that. Why did these people have to be so nosy? It just infuriated him to no end that these people were trying to pry in to his life. "I'm okay. Why can't any of you realize that? I don't need your help… I don't need to help seeing; I don't need you people to guide me around the godforsaken island. I've been blind since I was twenty-seven. I think I can manage." His voice had turned grouchier than he expected, then, and his face turned red, from bellowing. He softened slightly, and took a deep breath to regain his composure. "Just stay out of my business."

Mandy wasn't exactly sure how to handle that, he had just told her that he was blind, but she was expecting for it to be a bit nicer, than he said it. She began to feel sorry for the grouchy man. He was stuck on this island and he was alone, judging from his hostility towards others. She was here alone, too, but she felt fortunate enough to be taken in with open arms to a few of the other survivors. They called themselves 'the socks'.

"So… You are blind?" she asked as quietly as possible, but still trying to make it audible.

He sighed in response, resting his head in his hands. "Have you even been listening? You beg me all day to tell you – and when I finally do, you don't hear me!" he stopped, and then began to yell. "I'm blind, okay? Get it through your head! Now get _off my case_!" He snarled and turned away from her, beginning to make his way to his bed. He was going to sleep for days.

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"_Mom, I didn't do anything!" Mandy yelped, after her mother yelled at her – almost instantly after the teenager had stepped in to the house. At the top of the stairs, Mandy could see all of her things packed up, in a few suitcases. Her mother wasn't exactly the type to buy her anything. Another reason she was happy to be out of the country._

"_Amanda," she snapped, using the full name technique. "I'm getting so fed up with your lying, and your behavior. Before I take you to the airport, I'm taking you back to the school to apologize."_

_Mandy's face turned a dark red, and she felt like foaming at the mouth. "I didn't do anything, and you can't expect me to go and apologize to that bi-"_

"_Language, Amanda! You're only, what, fourteen-"_

"_I'm sixteen, mom," Mandy snapped back. She wasn't in the mood to argue with her. She was trying to be happy. In less than three hours, she would be on a plane, and going home to her dad - her real home. She kept an aghast expression on her face, and averted her eyes from her mother's. This is what she had to put up with, and she was more than happy to be leaving. _

_Her mother, however, looked crestfallen. Just the way that Mandy had retorted to her mistake made her feel absolutely horrible. It was a simple mistake. "Am-"_

"_Mom, I… I'd like a few dollars. I'm taking a taxi to the airport," she began, even though she had enough money on her to take it, she planned on using that on little trinkets at the terminal._

_Her mother's mouth began to dry up. What had she just said? She… She couldn't, there was no way she would allow her to. "Amanda…"_

_Mandy's eyes narrowed, and she could feel a tear began to well up in her eye, she just had to leave. It wasn't her fault that her mother had driven her to the feeling and it wasn't her fault her mother neglected her for the majority of her life. "Mom, just… let's just go. Buy me the tickets, then leave."_

_Her mother's face hardened and she shook her head. "No, we're not going, yet. I still need to do a few things." _

_Mandy, who was still standing in the doorway, groaned, and kicked off her shoes, making them hit the wall and scuffing dirt on to the plain white paint. "Whatever," she said angrily, and took the stairs two at a time past her mother. _

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"… Was it something I said?" Mandy said quietly, watching Chris walk away angrily. She watched him, as his silhouette disappeared into the bushes, and finally decided to walk back to the group of people around the fire. As she sat down on one of the logs, straddling her legs on either side of the trunk, she let out a sigh, as one of them – a man – began to tell a story.

"You okay, Mandy?" asked Janelle, sitting behind her. Her shoulder was clapped by Janelle's hand, sympathetically.

Nodding slowly, she managed her left leg towards the fire, and turned her head to Janelle. "Yeah, I'm fine," she said quietly, and tried to fake a smile.

Janelle noticed the phony smile, and laughed slightly. "You like him, don't you?" she asked, grinning widely.

Mandy's eyes narrowed when she asked this. It was true, but he was almost twice her age. He was just so nice, he seemed sweet, when you didn't annoy him about his sight problems, and it wasn't that he was bad to look at… But the age difference. She wasn't even legal age! Of course, there was no law enforcement on the island… Still, it would be weird, it would be wrong morally, and she would be ostracized from the entire community because of it.

Maybe in two years.

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_Within a few minutes, Mandy could hear the tap to the shower turn on, and the incessant downpour of water on to the basin of the bath. Her mom was thinking about hygiene at a time like this? Mandy was standing alone in her kitchen, hovering over the empty counter, thinking of something she could make herself – she wasn't too fond of airline food._

_As she heard the screeching noise of her mother singing, Mandy continually glanced towards her mom's purse at the edge of the counter, next to a bushel of bananas she had picked up from the market. She felt her throat begin to dry up, as she walked towards … the bananas. _

_Taking one from the bushel, she began to peel it, letting the yellow coating fall to the countertop. She sidestepped about ten centimeters, and was now standing smack-dab in front of the purse._

_Looking around nervously, Mandy reached out for it – careful to listen for her mother – and unzipped it. The inside of it was a complete and utter mess. She could see post-it notes running throughout it, (Mandy figured they were of some men she had been seeing), a package of gum, and some lipstick. Tucked away in the corner was a black, leather wallet. Mandy took a deep breath, and reached for it. _

_She kept a firm, yet sweaty, grip on the leather wallet, fingering the outside of it, as if looking for a secret way in. She didn't know why, but she felt guilty about even considering this. Why should she? Her mother completely neglected her, pretty much forgot about her. Maybe she neglected her credit cards, too._

_Somehow, Mandy doubted that._

_Opening the wallet, she fidgeted around, she had a few bills in there, but Mandy was looking for a credit card – a Visa, a Master Card, whatever she could find. She had like a flip book, in the wallet, each holding a different piece of identification. She stopped at the first credit card she could find, a Visa. She shifted around, to look at the bathroom door, and took it out of its case, along with a few dollars in cash. Closing the wallet back, she stuffed it in the purse, and zipped it back up._

_Taking another deep breath, Mandy dashed out of the kitchen, to the stairway. She had a whole bunch of suitcases she would be taking with her… Now she had to make a choice. Grabbing one of the smaller bags of clothes, along with her carry-on luggage – a backpack, with some CDs, a walkman, and a set of batters - she jumped down the stairs, ignoring the obvious tear she was shedding, and slipped her shoes back on. Luckily, she only lived a few minutes from the downtown, and she would be able to find a taxi, or a bus, from there._


	3. Blueberry Pie

**Author's Note: **Alrighty, this chapter, unfortunately, isn't very long, and I'm not very fond of it. The first half of the flashback is recycled from my previous version, however, the second part was a spur-of-the-moment thing, and it didn't work out how I anticipated it would. Hopefully, chapter four will put me back into the swing of things, and I'll be able to put words together coherently. 

**Disclaimer:** I only own Chris and Mandy (plus most flashback characters, and background characters) at this point. Lost is owned by ABC/Touchstone Television. I wish I was J.J. Abrams… You know, without the MI:3.

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Chris was in a sour mood, by the time he had reached his less-than-comfortable tarp, where, even after a week, he spent most of his time. Sure, the island was nice, but here, he had the comforts of home… and the things he couldn't take into public. His secrets.

He sat down, taking off his shoes, and letting his feet seep underground, as he kept them out from the tarp. He was lying down, and reaching around for something of his, a Braille book, entitled 'Bad Twin'. He had it in his possession since he was at the airport, and even began reading it, but as of yet, he wasn't really getting into the feel of the book.

He felt the hard cover of the book, and ran his hand along it, to make sure it was the right book. Attempting to grab on to it, he pulled it in closer to him, before being able to fully grab it, and hoist in on to his chest, and he would just read for a few minutes. He liked that about being blind - you could read in the dark.

Tightening his eyes shut, he began to run his fingers along the page slowly and really tried to visualize the book as he read it over. In fact, he was reading it so slowly, he nearly fell asleep. Of course, it was hard to sleep with people talking to you.

"Chris…?" Mandy asked, startling the man. He groaned, lay the book down next to him, and sat up, rubbing his eyes with his now-sandy fists.

"What?" he asked groggily and let out a yawn. He shifted himself around, towards the voice of the teenager. "You woke me up," he told her in an attempt to make her feel guilty.

"I thought people only fall asleep reading books on T.V.," she said with a smirk, walking closer to him. "You were reading, in the dark," she chuckled, but tried to make it sound serious.

Chris turned a pale red, and shifted himself again, this time moving further into his tent. He may not have been sleeping, but he would have liked to be asleep, at this time. He was exhausted. "What do you want?" he asked grouchily.

Mandy gave him an exasperated sigh and walked closer again, this time plopping her body down next to his, warming Chris up instantly. He never noticed it, before, but she smelled nice… even after a week on the island. "Do you even know my name?" she asked, with a lighthearted smile.

Chris actually didn't know. She may have told him, if she did, he didn't remember. He didn't want to remember. Nice-smelling or not, she was a nuisance. He just shrugged in response and said, "I don't think so."

"It's Mandy, nice to meet you," she said cheerily. _Wow, this girl must be on her period, because she was mood-swinging like crazy,_ Chris noted. He would make an attempt to remember her name, he knew it was best not to annoy a girl, or become blind, when a girl was on their period.

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"_I…" _

"_Anna, please, just let me talk for a minute," Chris sighed, in a hoarse voice. His hand was tightly grasped on to his girlfriend's; he could feel drops of sweat coming between their palms. She seemed extremely upset, just judging by the way she sounded, even before he broke the news._

_She nodded, but then realized that he had just, only seconds ago, told her he was blind. They had been dating almost two years, now, and this was a crushing blow to her. "Okay…" she mumbled, and wiped away a drop of water from under her eye with her free hand._

_Sensing her discomfort, Chris let out a deep sigh, and let go of her hand. "Anna…" he said quietly. He pulled his hand under the table and rummaged around for a moment. "I want you to know, this doesn't change how I feel about you. I love you."_

_The girl let out a teary cough, and a quiet sniffle, before saying, "I love you, too."_

_There was a moment between the two, where neither of them spoke. Chris was trying to collect his thoughts, Anna was staring out into the window, as if looking for a taxi home, in the miserable rainy streets. _

"_Anna…" Chris said softly, reaching out for her with his right hand, keeping his left below the table. She gripped back as tightly as she could (which wasn't very tight), her hands were wet from wiping the tears away from her eyes. She held in a breath as Chris spoke again. "I was planning on this, whether or not I became blind…"_

_He stopped speaking, again, and lifted his left hand, clenched in a fist, above the table. Slowly, he opened it, and revealed a crimson box, laced with a velvet-like material. "Will you… Marry me?" he asked, trying to smile, even though he felt horrible._

_He wasn't exactly sure what her response to this meant, but she let out a gasp. At the time, he thought she was just in complete shock that he would pop the question, without the two of them even discussing it, though they both seemed to want it. "Chris, I don't know what to say," she said slowly. Her voice was cracking, with tears slipping in to the corners of her mouth._

"_How about… yes, or no?" he asked, with a grin. He was trying to bring joy into the conversation. If she said yes, it would be the happiest day of his life, despite going blind, if she said no, well, his future didn't look very nice, at the time._

_Anna laughed quietly, but was choked up by cries. "Chris, I don't think- I don't think I can," she mumbled. "You deserve somebody better than me."_

_He didn't know whether she was insulting herself, complimenting him, or trying to make him feel bad. "Anna, no- I don't, you're the only person who can…" he stopped, and thought about his response, "The only one who can help me get through this."_

_She let go of his hand, and there was a long, uncomfortable silence. Chris didn't want to be emotional, but he felt the urge to, and he couldn't stop the one small tear that escaped the corner of his eye. He heard footsteps, walking towards him, following by a shrill voice, that of the woman who had been serving the two at the diner. "Well, sir," she said, not knowing what had just gone on between them, "seeing as your friend just left, how will you be paying for this evening – cash, check, or charge?"_

_That was a crushing blow, to him. He chose charge._

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"It's getting late," Mandy said, suddenly, distracting Chris from his little dazed moment. He heard a grunt, and Mandy slapped her hand down on Chris' crossed legs, and lifted herself up. "I'm gonna go to bed. I'll see you in the morning, okay?"

Chris said sure, reluctantly. Did this girl get the feeling he liked her? Quite the contrary, he nearly despised the annoying teen. Still, she was the closest thing he had, on this island, to a friend. There were the other 'socks', but none of them really had a personal connection with him. Mandy did, despite it being only a chance encounter, due to her stupidity, and throwing a Frisbee at his head. As she walked away, Chris finally lied down, and got a chance to sleep.

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_He didn't move from his stall in the diner, even after paying. He had one cup of coffee, which he had already paid for, and he took slow sips of it every few minutes. He didn't want to go home, he couldn't go home. Even though it was late, it was a 24-hour café, so he had time to spare._

_Even though it was always open, he could tell there was less and less people in the café as the evening turned into night. He was sitting, both hands wrapped around the mug of coffee, which was now cooling off, basically in a trance. The only sudden movement he made was a yawn, and there was little he could do to stop it. He was drowsy. _

"_Can I get you anything, sir?" asked a young woman, causing Chris to turn his head from the large window next to his booth. _

_He hesitated for a moment. It was hard enough drinking his coffee, he kept thinking that he might miss his mouth, but he was famished, and a wee bit of food would do him some good. "Yeah," he finally said, letting go of the mug. "Yeah, I'd like some pie, please…"_

"_Try the blueberry," she cut in, laughing. "It's my favourite."_

_Chris wasn't exactly going to refuse, he had planned on asking her for the type he should try. He came here, often, when he was younger, but now he had no idea what kind of food they served, he just let Anna order. "Blueberry," he said, smiling meekly. "Sure, sounds good."_

_The woman told him to wait just a moment, and walked over to the bar area, where she called over for his order. Within a few minutes she was back, and handed him the pie. "I'm Janelle," she said and actually took a seat next to him. Chris figured he was the only customer remaining, or else she probably wouldn't have sat down… or, maybe, she was on a break, and just needed somebody to waste time with._

"_Chris," was all he could say in response. He wasn't really in the mood to talk to a woman, after what Anna had done to him._

"_Chris," she repeated, pausing a moment. "Who was that woman you were with, Chris? She seemed to leave rather upset."_

_Chris sighed quietly at that. So people had been watching. And supposedly, Anna had left being upset, while he got to sit in the diner, stuck by himself, with no idea how to get home. "We just… had a fight," he informed her, even though he figured it was none of her business._

"_Oh, a fight," she said, and reached out across the table to the box he had left out. "What's in here-" she stopped, and gasped, "-it's beautiful."_

_Chris turned his head in bewilderment. Had she just opened his engagement ring box? Who did she think she was, barging in to his personal life like that? He cleared his throat angrily. "Uh, I'm sorry… I have to go," he said in a barely audible voice. _

"_What? Why- you haven't even touched your pie!" she said, sounding slightly upset._

"_I know, I'm sorry; it's just that- I just have to go home," he said quickly, and hesitated to say his next line. "Could I have the ring back… please?" He was nearly in tears, by this point, and solemnly pushed past Janelle, and hurriedly left the diner, and began calling for a taxi. _


End file.
